


The Seven Stages of Michael De Santa

by pornoverse



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pornoverse/pseuds/pornoverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-- Amanda was killed in a hit gone wrong. It was a hit on Michael. Amanda had been driving the car. So they killed Amanda instead. --</p><p>Michael going through the seven stages of grief. A story of Michael going through his emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seven Stages of Michael De Santa

Michael still had the phone clutched in his hand minutes after the phone call had ended. His body was pressed against the island counter, arms supporting him as he wasn't sure if he legs could hold him up anymore. Jimmy was sitting at the kitchen, eyebrows raised at the sight of his father. And when he began to slump further to the ground, Jimmy got up to ease him back onto his feet.

Moving his eyes to face Jimmy, who was towering over him as he kept Michael in place, and wasn't exactly sure what to say. He licked his lips to try to get the dry taste from out of his mouth. He even attempted to clear his throat once he got his composure and was able to lift himself up. He still was never prepared to utter these words, he had never wanted to, especially not to Jimmy.

"They found my car. It was rammed off the highway." Michael took in a deep breath as the realization began to surface on Jimmy's face. "Your mom took the car to take it to her yoga session. They..."

Jimmy shook his head, not needing to hear it any further. From Michael's reaction to the information he was receiving, it was pretty easy to piece together what had befallen Amanda. He wasn't exactly upset, he wasn't that close to his mother to feel intense sadness over it, but he still almost thought about staying alongside his father who was probably going to be struck by this the most.

But Michael quickly lifted his hand, batting his son away from his personal space. "Go upstairs. Or out. Wherever it is you like to go," he muttered, pulling crumpled up twenties out of his pocket. "Just go have fun. I think I need to be alone."

He hesitated on taking the money but then gingerly began to grab at each bill until they were all stuffed into his hoodie pocket. He had turned one last time as he was leaving the house to see his father against the kitchen counter, smoking a cigarette and letting the ashes fall onto the kitchen floor. He left without saying a word.

The click of the house door and the sound of the car exiting the driveway made Michael finally realize he was alone. He sort of expected each passing car heard in the distance to be Amanda pulling into the driveway and bickering about her other yoga girls. Always something about rumors, about Amanda's posture, or whatever it was that seemed to have bothered her enough to retell it to Michael. Yet, he knew in the way back of his mind that she wasn't but it hadn't fostered to a normal feeling just yet.

\--

A call had rung around three hours later after the news. He was afraid it was the hospital so for the first few rings he ignored it. Then he wondered if it was Jimmy letting him know where he was, something he had never done before, so he reached for his phone and caught it before it went to voice mail.

"Michael speaking," he said, lighting another cigarette. He was already on pack two today.

There was a fumbling sound before frantic, "Hello? Hello, Michael?"

Immediately recognizing the voice, he sighed. "Yes Trevor?"

"Dude, I saw the accident on the news. Please don't tell me that your car." He then laughed. "Well, obviously not, and that's why you answe-"

"Amanda died in the accident," Michael interjected, hushing Trevor up immediately.

There was silence, something Michael had been surrounded by the entire afternoon, and it made Michael want to throw the phone onto the floor just to give a reason to get out of this conversation. But the softest voice emerged, as if Trevor was trying to find the quietest part within him, and it quietly mumbled, "Shit dude, I'm sorry."

Trevor let out a huge breath that he must have been holding during the silence. His fingers clenched around the phone, he began to grit out, "I think I'm going to go though Trevor. I'm not really comfortable being in this call right now."

"Oh of course," Trevor said. "Was just trying to make sure that it wasn't you. It wasn't. That's all I needed. Okay, bye."

Before Michael could get a word in edgewise, Trevor had already hung up and Michael was left with his hand still pressing his phone against his ear as if the sound of the dial tone was soothing to him. Then he pulled his hand away and let the phone slip out from between his fingers and clatter against the counter top. He didn't bother to pick the phone back up again or even check if he had left any damage on it, but just gave his whole dedication to the cigarette he had lit up and between his lips before he would reach down and grab another one from the pack.

Michael had four packs scattered around the house so he was sure that would keep him busy for awhile.

\--

Tracey had called the next day, being frightfully quiet. "Do you want me to take care of everything, Dad?"

She hadn't grown up, she was still the loud and rambunctious girl he had struggled to raise, but in the moment she must have taken a step in the right direction at the sound of her father's voice from the other side of the line. "I can arrange everything. I can be out in Los Santos in a few days. I know Jimmy isn't going to be much help, and I'm sure I'm not, but I can do it for Mom if you want."

She seemed honest, which surprised Michael, but he let himself hum as he settled into the couch and nod his head. "Yeah, I guess you can if you want, Trace. I can can over when I'm ready to."

"Gotta go through the seven stages of grief, right?" She said. "Well, I'll be there when you get to step seven."

As she was about to hang up, Michael questioned, "When did you get some grown up?"

She laughed. "Finally going to school kind of forces you to grow up dad. Thanks."

\--

Before Michael went to bed that night he made sure that all the frames with family photos had been tipped over to hide the eyes of his wife.


End file.
